


First, Do No Harm

by myglassesaredirty



Series: The End of the Innocence [9]
Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, And Instagram, Bisexual Male Character, Eventual Romance, F/M, Family Bonding, Gay Male Character, Gen, I love medicine, I'm sorry irondad fans you'll have to wait, Johns Hopkins University, Medical School, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Platonic Relationships, WIP, begins in august 2018, guys what is this, i'm sorry i keep forgetting y'all aren't in my brain, iphones are a thing, is this an actual posting schedule that i adhered to, lolol don't get used to it this is a miracle in itself, med school au, skyence, so is texting, so remember that, take a guess, this is set from 08-01-18 to 06-xx-23
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-07-05 13:14:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15864348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myglassesaredirty/pseuds/myglassesaredirty
Summary: I swear to fulfill, to the best of my ability and judgment, this covenant…





	1. First Day, First Week, First Year

**Author's Note:**

> This idea has been on my mind since I read another med school au written by Muir_Wolf. This is not the same plotline as theirs, and I absolutely love medicine and I might have a career as a doctor.
> 
> My brother is in medical school, but he is not at Johns Hopkins, so I might be inaccurate in some things, but I am going off what my brother has told me, so a lot of this stuff will be accurate, though not necessarily to this specific medical school.
> 
> I have an interest in this one, and I'll try my best to continue with this fic, but I also have the Dad!Hawkeye fic, another WIP I started, and a few other MASH fics. I'll try and update as often as possible.

“What happened last night?”

 

“Well, you drank enough tequila to blind a high school senior, and then you stumbled outside and decided that you could fight a racoon and _then_ you actually found a racoon to fight. Peg and I had to drag you away before you could actually pick a fight with the racoon.”

 

Hawkeye stares at BJ through bleary eyes. “That explains my pounding headache, but I don’t understand why I have a black eye.”

 

BJ smirks and shifts so that the blonde girl eavesdropping on their conversation can hear the next part very well. “Right. Well, you saw one of the college hockey players smash a beer can on their forehead, and well…you tried to do the same thing, but you practically punched yourself in the face with that can.”

 

The blonde girl snorts and tries to cover it up with a cough. Hawk continues to glare.

 

“You know I hate you, right, Beej?”

 

“You love me.”

 

“No, I don’t think I do.” He scrubs his hands over his face. “I need some coffee.”

 

“Well, class starts in half an hour.”

 

Hawkeye curls his lip into a snarl.

 

The blonde girl gets up, pours a cup of coffee, and pulls a chair up to BJ’s and Hawkeye’s table. “You know what’s nice in the morning?” She takes a sip from her mug, locking eyes with Hawkeye. “A nice, hot cup of coffee.”

 

BJ grins and hooks his thumb towards her. “I think I like her.”

 

Hawkeye rolls his eyes. “I’m not sure I do.”

 

She makes a face at him. “I’m Margaret Houlihan.”

 

“Cool,” Hawkeye says, and it earns him a sharp kick to the shin from BJ.

 

“I’m BJ Hunnicutt. You can call me BJ, Beej, Brad, Baker, whatever suits your fancy.” He shakes her hand.

 

“Hunnicutt? Is your girlfriend Peg Hansen?”

 

BJ’s eyes light up. “Yeah! We met at high school, but have only been dating for two years. You know her?”

 

Margaret smiles. “We were in the same sorority at Northwestern.”

 

“Didn’t take you for a sorority girl,” Hawkeye mumbles.

 

Margaret crosses her arms on the table and faces him. “And just who are _you,_ oh-fighter-of-racoons?”

 

Hawkeye rolls his eyes. “Benjamin Franklin Pierce. Call me Hawkeye.”

 

She smiles tightly. “I think I’ll just call you Pierce.”

 

“Fine, then. Can I please have your coffee, if you’re not gonna drink anymore of it?”

 

She takes the mug and moves it farther away from him. “You’re about to start medical school. You should know better than to drink something someone else has put their lips on. That’s sharing germs.”

 

Hawkeye lifts both eyebrows and gets ready to stand up. “I saw you sucking face with the married guy in our class. Better hope his wife doesn’t find out about that.”

 

This time, the kick to his shin is a double feature, sponsored by both Margaret and BJ. Margaret also reaches for her scorching cup of coffee, presumably to throw on Hawkeye, but BJ’s reflexes are faster, and he grabs the mug and moves it to his other side.

 

“Ow! What the –”

 

Margaret glares at him. “I hope to _God_ you have to remediate.”

 

Hawkeye smiles tightly. “Sorry, you’re out of luck. Summa cum laude over here.”

 

She seems to contemplate slapping him, but she just stands forcefully and leaves.

 

Hawkeye’s eyes follow her. “What’s with her?”

 

“Dude, I agree that it’s really stupid that she made out with the married guy, but you can’t just _say_ that to her.”

 

“Oh, so make _me_ the perpetrator.”

 

“You _are_ a perpetrator.” BJ jerks his head toward the door. “C’mon, you need to get washed up.”

 

Hawkeye groans and stands up, following BJ to their dorm room. He bets that they’re going to get to class three seconds before the proverbial bell.

 

*

 

A seating chart. They are given a seating chart. He hasn’t had a seating chart since 10th grade.

 

His head still pounds, but he dutifully grabs his bag and textbook and moves up to the middle where Dr. Henry Blake is pointing. He’s wedged between a half-bald guy and…

 

_Margaret._

 

She glares at him when he sits down between her and the other guy, but she keeps her tongue. The married guy – Blake calls him _Frank Burns_ – sits on Margaret’s other side, and the last member of their lab group is a guy Blake calls John McIntyre. Hawkeye doesn’t miss the way she looks him over.

 

Once the seating chart is complete, Dr. Blake shuffles to the front of the room and straightens his papers. “Everyone, turn to page 37.”

 

The class flips their books open.

 

“We’ll be discussing the physiology of the bones. I suggest that you take notes, unless you’ve already managed to make friends who are willing to give you their notes.”

 

Hawkeye already knows the material.

 

Margaret kicks him in the shin.

 

He takes notes.

 

*

 

The first day at Johns Hopkins School of Medicine is long. It might have seemed shorter and not as grueling if he’d been wiser about last night, but, well…he’s not exactly the most responsible human being in the world.

 

Once he gets back to the dorms, he gathers his towel and pajamas so he can wash off his hangover. Unfortunately for him, his lab partner – the bald guy, he can’t remember his name – is also in the showers, and he’s very talkative.

 

“I _love_ the first day of school,” he says, and for a moment, Hawkeye is convinced he’s British. “I get to determine my competition and how to undermine them.” He lets out a small chuckle. “With you, I’d assume, I’ll just have to hand you a glass of Scotch.”

 

Hawkeye tries very, very hard not to sneer as he steps under the showerhead. “Well, at least I didn’t get accepted because I live overseas.”

 

The bald guy chuckles again and scrubs his face with soap. “You think I am British? Oh, how foolish. I appreciate the thought, but no. I come from the finest line of Bostonians.”

 

Hawkeye lets the hot water run over him, and his hair sticks to his forehead. “What, is Conan your uncle or something?”

 

The bald guy seems affronted by this statement. “How _dare_ you. No, I am a Winchester. Charles Emerson Winchester III.”

 

Hawkeye hums in response. “Never heard of ya, Chuckles.”

 

Charles splutters. “How _dare_ you? Don’t you ever call me Chuckles again or I will most _certainly_ cut you with the scalpel when we dissect our specimen.”

 

“Oh, well, ex _cuse_ me for trying to get rid of this pounding headache. Known as you.”

 

“Well, I must forgive a man who has never been to Boston.”

 

Hawkeye shakes his head, and his hair un-sticks from his forehead. “Where’d you hear that? I went to school in Boston.”

 

Charles splutters again, and, upon finding no response, he just shuts off his shower. “Cretin,” he murmurs.

 

Hawkeye rolls his eyes and begins to wash up.

 

*

 

When he walks into the common room wearing his red robe, he expects to find BJ. He does not expect to see him talking to Margaret.

 

He sighs heavily and wanders over. “Hey, Margaret – before you get mad at me, I just want to apologize for what I said this morning. It was out of line. Having a hangover was no excuse.”

 

Her jaw drops at his sincerity. “Oh. Well, uh, thank you, Pierce.”

 

He hates that she still calls him “Pierce,” but he supposes it’ll take time for her to warm up to him, especially after his comment this morning.

 

BJ pats the seat next to him. “C’mon, we were about to start studying.”

 

Hawkeye sits down. “The first test isn’t until next week.”

 

“You can never start studying too early, Pierce,” Margaret says, flipping open her textbook.

 

Hawkeye holds up a hand. “Before we start, I have one question: is this an offical unofficial study group?”

 

BJ grins. “Would I ever abandon you?”

 

Margaret shrugs. “If you want.”

 

Hawkeye nods. “Okay. Now, ask away.”

 

*

 

They crawl into bed at 1:42 am, and he’s asleep as soon as his body hits the mattress.


	2. Friends, Foes, and Lectures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I will respect the hard-won scientific gains of those physicians in whose steps I walk, and gladly share such knowledge as is mine with those who are to follow…_
> 
> —————————————————
> 
> Potter stands on his tiptoes. “What type of medicine is at the top of your list?”
> 
>  
> 
> Hawkeye shrugs, eyes still on the knife in his hand. “Either general or thoracic surgery.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know any questions that are actually asked of med school students, and since Henry is going over bones, I decided to go with that for this chapter. Next time, we get to the hEaRt.
> 
> Again, any schedules for medical school that might seem inaccurate are all schedules I've gotten from my siblings, including lab dates and breaks.

When he attended Boston University, he hardly studied for a single test. I mean, sure he studied for midterms and finals and he certainly studied for the MCAT, but other than that, he glanced over his notes the day before the test and he would generally be fine. Granted, he read the chapter several weeks beforehand and made sure to absorb every bit of material, and he always paid attention in class, but he just. Never studied.

 

It was even worse in high school, he’s ashamed to admit. He and his father had more than a few tiffs over his note-taking ability, which was practically non-existent. The only times he ever took notes were in classes that required notes as a grade and his science courses, and even his science notes were sketchy at best. He still graduated valedictorian (though that in itself wasn’t as much as an achievement as BJ’s – Hawkeye went to a small public high school, and his graduating class barely topped 150 kids) and scored high enough on his SAT and ACT to get into Boston University on a scholarship.

 

Med school, however, is quite different. He already read the chapter Dr. Blake assigned to them three times – not once  _ since _ his class – and he’s woken up to his alarm after sleeping for a measly four hours so he can become more familiar with biochemistry.

 

BJ’s face is still pressed against the pillow and he merely grunts in response to Hawkeye’s alarm. Hawkeye, meanwhile, throws off his covers and pushes himself out of bed. He grabs his red robe that’s tossed haphazardly over his desk chair and his biochem textbook and heads downstairs.

 

Margaret will probably yell at him for not studying physiology, but he’s too tired to deal with that right now. Besides, his father is the best doctor in Crabapple Cove – as long as one excludes the fact that his father is the  _ only _ doctor in Crabapple Cove. Regardless, Hawkeye and Daniel often bonded over medicine while Hawkeye did his homework and Daniel cooked. So, really, Hawkeye already knows the basics of it, and he  _ read _ the chapter  _ three _ times already.

 

When he gets downstairs, however, he’s more than a little shocked to find Margaret helping – crap, what was his name? All Hawkeye really remembers about him is that he has no lips. Is it Fred? Philip? Frank! It’s Frank.

 

Over in the corner table, in the booth, Margaret is sitting oddly close to this Frank guy. She rubs her hand in slow circles on Frank’s shoulder, and Hawkeye is willing to bet he’d see some monkey business going on if he just peeked under the table. As it is, the dining hall is filling up slowly, and all Hawkeye can remember since move-in day is that the food here is absolutely  _ terrible. _

 

He finds a basket of fresh fruit and grabs a green apple. When he turns around, he can’t find an empty table, and he really doesn’t feel like going back up to his dorm room to study (BJ snores like a pig most of the time, and when he’s absolutely zonked, he snores like a freight train, and Hawk is willing to bet that Beej is zonked) or driving  _ all _ the way to the library. Besides, even if he  _ did _ go to the library, he’d have to rub elbows against overeager freshmen undergrad who don’t understand that unless your professor is  _ Satan, _ they don’t have to start studying for tests for another two weeks yet.

 

He sees the last member of his lab group sitting alone at the other end of the dining hall, and seeing as how he has no other options, he wanders over to McIntyre’s table and raps on the wood. “Is this seat occupado?”

 

McIntyre looks up and smiles. His grin is easy and lopsided, Hawkeye notices, but he mentally shakes the thought out of his head. McIntyre nods to the seat across from him. “Help yourself. I was just reviewing the chapter we got yesterday in Dr. Blake’s class.”

 

Hawkeye hums and slides into the seat opposite McIntyre. “Nice. Our first test is…”

 

“Two weeks from tomorrow. In his class, at least. I asked him this morning.”

 

He takes a bite out of his apple and flips open his biochem book. “Already the teacher’s pet, aren’t we, John?”

 

McIntyre grins again, and again, Hawkeye shakes away thoughts of his smile. “Call me Trapper. And no, I don’t plan on being any teacher’s pet, but I tutor Dr. Blake’s foster kid.”

 

Hawkeye talks around the apple in his mouth. “I’ll call you Trapper if you call me Hawkeye. And I never knew Dr. Blake had a foster kid.”

 

Trapper nods. “Yeah. He’s in high school, and he’s been struggling since his mom passed, and he’s never been an Einstein when it came to school, but he’s really eager to learn. He also organized all of my undergrad notes, but I’m gonna have to work on some of his spelling.”

 

Hawkeye smiles. “I mean,  _ no one _ can spell xanthosis correctly on the first try. I had to watch  _ Akeelah and the Bee _ to learn it.”

 

“What, when you were twelve?”

 

Hawkeye puts a hand up to his chest, pretending to be offended. “How  _ dare _ you,” he says in his best Charles imitation. “I was  _ eleven.” _

 

Trapper laughs, and then they settle into a comfortable silence. Hawkeye has always kept a pen in his robe pocket, and he pulls it out and starts scribbling notes in the margins of his textbook. Over on the other side, they hear this odd, maniacal giggling and turn around to see Frank Burns laughing and Margaret gently scratching the base of his hairline.

 

“That’s gross,” Trapper says. “He’s a married man, and he has two kids. How dare he?”

 

Hawkeye furrows his brow and glances over his shoulder at Trapper. “I knew he was married, but he has  _ kids? _ I thought –”

 

“He decided that he wasn’t making enough money at a normal desk job and so he decided to go back to school to get his science courses completed so that he was eligible to take the MCAT. He’s lucky Texas Tech gave him a scholarship; I don’t think his wife would have been very appreciative otherwise.”

 

Hawkeye makes a face. “Y’know, I thought Margaret was cool. She and BJ are…I mean, they’re not  _ friends, _ but they get along.”

 

Trapper nods solemnly. “I think she  _ is _ cool, when she’s not hanging over men. I think it has something to do with her dad, but that’s just what I overheard during orientation.”

 

His jaw drops. “She–  _ Margaret Houlihan _ spilled her  _ guts _ at  _ orientation? _ I don’t believe it.”

 

Trap shakes his head. “No, no, not  _ to _ any of us. She got a call from her dad and – I don’t know, but I think he’s really pushing for her to get married, preferably to someone with money and reputation.”

 

“And lemme guess, Ferret Face over there made good money at his desk job and also made some connections to bigger and better people?”

 

Trapper taps his nose. “Correct.”

 

Hawkeye slams his textbook shut. “Well,  _ my _ appetite is ruined. I’ll catch ya later, Trap. I’ve gotta go wake up my roommate.”

 

*

 

Hawkeye gets really bored in class. I mean, really,  _ really _ bored. Currently, he’s pulled his left foot into his lap and he’s drawing an abstract tattoo on his ankle with his pen as Henry Blake paces the front, talking about bone formation. Margaret elbowed him earlier, when he first started, but he ignored her and continued to draw.

 

Frank, on the other side of Margaret, scribbles notes down frantically, and Hawkeye smiles when he remembers the text Trapper sent him six minutes ago:  _ Ol’ Ferret Face over here is sweating like a pig. Not to interrupt your artwork. _

 

On Hawkeye’s other side, Charles dutifully takes notes, though his hand moves slowly and his half-lidded eyes are filled with apathy. Henry Blake isn’t the most…commanding person in front of a room, and based on what Hawkeye knows of Charles, Chucky here already knows the information.

 

Dr. Blake seems to realize the apathy in his class, so he crosses his arms, leans against his desk, and says, “Can  _ anyone _ in here tell me the primary difference between short bones, long bones, and flat bones?”

 

Margaret nudges Frank, and his left hand shoots up in the air as his right hand continues writing.

 

Dr. Blake pointedly ignores him. “No, Burns, I know you’re at least  _ trying _ to pay attention. Pierce, why don’t you answer that question? Or is your ankle too entertaining?”

 

Hawkeye looks up slowly, and he doesn’t miss the smirk on Margaret’s face.  _ Oh, I’ll show her. _ He clears his throat. “Short bones are generally more cube-shaped, and most of them are located in the wrists and ankles. They’re formed within the tendon, and they’re primarily spongy bones. Now, long bones are longer than they are wide, and they’re made up of a long shaft with a bulky end or other extremities. Long bones are primarily compact bones. Now  _ flat _ bones are thin, curved, and, obviously, flat. And I know you didn’t ask, but there are a couple of irregular bones that don’t fit into any of the above categories, like the maxilla and mandible.”

 

Margaret’s eyes widen in surprise. Dr. Blake seems shocked that he knows the material. He nods once and continues on with the rest of class, suspiciously eyeing Hawkeye as he paces back and forth across the room. Finally, he dismisses the class so they can head over to anatomy, but he holds up a hand. “Pierce, I want to see you in person. Now.”

 

Hawkeye sighs and waves Trapper on ahead of him.

 

“Pierce, I don’t get it. You haven’t paid attention either yesterday or today, and yet, you weren’t even fazed by my question. In fact, you were bored by it.”

 

Hawkeye bounces on the balls of his feet. “I’m sorry, Dr. Blake. It won’t happen again. I’ll pay attention in class tomorrow.”

 

Dr. Blake shakes his head. “That’s not my issue, Pierce. I mean, yes, I want you to pay attention because this is very important, but my question is  _ why _ you aren’t paying attention.”

 

Hawkeye runs a hand through his hair. “I already read the chapter. A few times, actually. After I saw that you’d posted the chapter, I mean. Besides, anatomy and physiology were always my strongsuit.”

 

Dr. Blake puts his hands in his pocket. “Is that all? You seem more than bored right now, actually. If you want to be a doctor, you’re going to have to learn things you don’t –”

 

Hawkeye shakes his head. “No, that’s not – my dad is a doctor back in Maine. My mom died when I was little, so my dad raised me on his own. A lot of the time, that was just how we were able to bond. And after my mom died, I wanted to be able to help others so that other kids wouldn’t have to go through what I went through.”

 

Dr. Blake purses his lips and nods slowly. “Touching story, Pierce. Really. But…a lot of these students look to you for leadership. There’s a reason I didn’t put you with your buddy Hunnicutt, but…you need to lead these students, Ben. I can try my hardest to do that, but I can’t do my job if you’re actively texting in my class or drawing on your ankle, for Pete’s sake!”

 

Hawkeye hangs his head and scuffs his shoe against the carpet. “I’m sorry, sir. It won’t happen again.”

 

“It better not.” Dr. Blake sighs and jerks his head toward the door. “C’mon, you’ve gotta get to the lab. I don’t think Doc Potter’s gonna be too happy that I kept you.”

 

Hawkeye grins and runs off for the labs.

 

*

 

Doc Potter is a short old man with round glasses who is  _ very _ unhappy that Hawkeye shows up late to anatomy lab. He has to stand on his tiptoes to speak at eye-level with Hawkeye, but Potter’s height (or lack thereof) does not make him any less intimidating.

 

“You better have a damn good reason for your tardiness.”

 

Hawkeye huffs out a nervous laugh. “Uhhh, you see…” he says, shrugging on his white coat, “Dr. Blake asked to see me after class, and- I– I’m sorry, sir, it won’t happen again.”

 

Potter squints at him through his dirty lenses. “Find your group,” he says gruffly.

 

Hawkeye can practically hear Charles’ smugness and Margaret’s eye roll, and he finds his lab group without much trouble. Margaret glares at him, and he waves at her mockingly. She may be friends with BJ, but he isn’t that quick to be friends with her. She didn’t give him her coffee, after all.

 

Potter paces up and down, between the rows of lab tables. “Dr. Blake has informed me that you are first discussing the bones of the lower limb. I want you to greet your cadaver and once you get acquainted with each other, I want you to find and identify the lateral cuneiform.”

 

Hawkeye purses his lips and rocks up onto the balls of his feet. “Larry. He looks like a Larry.”

 

Margaret huffs. “You’re  _ supposed _ to be respectful of the cadaver.”

 

Hawkeye nods. “I am being respectful. I didn’t name him after Frank.”

 

Frank’s jaw drops, and even Charles fails to hide a chuckle.

 

Trapper grins and winks at Hawkeye. “It’s not like we can’t name our cadaver, sweetheart. We’re allowed to, and I truly think that Larry is a good name for him. Whaddya say, Chuck?”

 

Charles glares at Trapper. “Yes, I–” he clears his throat, “I do think our specimen does look like a Larry. Three to two, Margaret. It’s Larry.”

 

Margaret, dismayed that her only other potential ally has now deserted her, sighs. “Fine. But I say Pierce should take point on this dissection.”

 

Charles passes Hawkeye the scalpel, and Hawkeye accepts it, looking at her with a mocking grin on his face. “Why, you don’t trust Ferret Face with a knife? Think he should learn from the best? That’s okay, I understand.” He finds and cuts along the line of collagen near the ankle, and Charles and Trapper look over his shoulder. Neither try to push him in the right direction, but Frank already has things to say.

 

“Oh, why’d you have to cut along the line of collagen, Pierce? He’s dead, it’s not like it’s going to heal anyway!”

 

Trapper smiles bitterly. “I’ll remember that when you end up on my operating table, and I won’t cut along the line of collagen. It’ll leave you with one nasty scar.”

 

Hawkeye can feel Potter’s presence behind him. “Yes,  _ Colonel? _ How may I help you today? Do you want a front row seat to the show?”

 

Potter stands on his tiptoes, and both Trapper and Charles shuffle aside so Potter can see better. “Beautiful cut, Pierce. What type of medicine is at the top of your list?”

 

Hawkeye shrugs, eyes still on the knife in his hand. “Either general or thoracic surgery. I’m not entirely decided, but I like those two the most.”

 

Potter purses his lips and nods. “I don’t doubt you’d be good at it.” He glances over at Trapper. “And what about you, McIntyre? What do you want your field of expertise to be?”

 

Trapper blinks, a little taken aback by the question. “Um…I like radiology and orthopedics.”

 

Potter continues to nod. “What about the rest of you?”

 

Charles is the first to respond. “Neurology. More specifically, neurosurgery.”

 

Potter lets out a low whistle. “That’s a big aspiration. Houlihan, Burns?”

 

Margaret straightens her shoulders, and Hawkeye thinks he sees her eyes harden with resolve. “I would love to be a cardiologist, sir.”

 

Frank shrugs. “Maybe an anesthesiologist. I’m not so sure yet, sir.”

 

Potter nods. “Perfectly understandable, Burns. Pierce, why don’t you let McIntyre take point on this lab? He is the only one in this group who expressed an interest with orthopedics.”

 

Hawkeye nods and passes the scalpel to Trapper. “It would be my pleasure, sir.”

 

Potter claps him on the shoulder. “It’s Colonel,” he says with a wink.

 

*

 

He calls his dad for the first time that night. The home phone rings once, twice, three times, and then he hears his dad’s voice.

 

“Already want to drop out, Hawk?”

 

Hawkeye smiles and leans back against the wall. “It’s not that. But I did already get in trouble, but in my own defense, I’d already  _ read _ the chapter over bone physiology three times before then. I glanced over it again today while studying with Beej.”

 

Daniel sighs, and Hawkeye can just imagine him pinching the bridge of his nose. “Hawk, you’ve got to learn to control your boredom.”

 

“I know, Dad, I’m sorry.” He pauses and looks around the room. BJ snuck off to the showers five minutes ago, and Hawkeye warned him of a Charles Emerson Winchester III. He smiles. “Dad, I can’t wait to be just as good a doctor as you.”

 

Daniel’s smile is evident in his voice. “I’m touched, son, truly, I am, but you  _ hate _ family medicine.”

 

Hawkeye shrugs, even though he knows his dad can’t see him. “Then I’ll be better. I just want to see the confusion in Crabapple Cove when someone asks for Dr. Pierce in a few years.”

 

Daniel barks out a laugh. “You  _ would _ enjoy that, wouldn’t you? Causing chaos all over Crabapple Cove. Mrs. Honeybee would have an aneurysm.”

 

Hawkeye laughs at the memory of Mrs. Honeybee. “Nah, she’d have a heart attack. How is everyone back there, anyway?”

 

“Healthy, for the most part. Tyler Wilbinson had to get his appendix out, but other than that, it’s quiet over here. Too quiet with you gone.”

 

“I miss you, Dad. I’ll come home for Thanksgiving and Christmas, I promise.”

 

“You better. I want to hear more about your friends.”

 

“I can tell you about them now –”

 

“I know you can, and I know you would, but you and biochemistry don’t exactly get along. Get studying, son. I love you.”

 

Hawkeye smiles, and for a brief moment, he doesn’t feel the distance between them. “I love you, too, Dad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like it, love it, hate it? Leave a comment below or go to my tumblr @ my-glasses-are-dirty and leave an ask there.


	3. Midterms (aka the Black Death)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “My mother died when I was ten. She had a heart attack. My dad – he’s a doctor, too –, he tried to save her, but she wouldn’t let him help her. My sister died from leukemia when I was nine.” He finally looks up from his hands and stares into Father Mulcahy’s eyes. “I wanted to become a doctor because I couldn’t save them, but…what if I can’t save anyone? What if I’m just an imposter who’s just gonna end up playing at God?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lied. I said we'd talk about the heart and then I liEd right through my teeth. You know, like a liar. Also I'm so sorry for not mentioning this sooner, but this is a modern day au. Like, this chapter is set in this month. So. Yeppers.

Medical school is much more stressful than college.

 

He’s always been naturally smart, and it’s never been difficult for him to pass and do well in a class before, but that was with a normal influx of information. Medical school is like a fire hose being pointed at your face. While you’re in the ocean. And you’re drowning.

 

He has not found time to head to the bar; in fact, he’s barely found enough time to watch the single best movie of all time:  _ The Breakfast Club. _ (BJ yelled at him to study, but Hawkeye simply lifted the finger and continued on with life. He’s not having it. He has not been able to destress for six weeks.)

 

Charles is more pompous than ever, Margaret and Frank are a thing (and Hawkeye tries to stamp out the raging jealousy he feels every time he sees them holding hands or making out or eating food together), and Henry Blake has been watching him like a hawk.

 

Biochemistry is also Hawkeye’s worst subject. Physiology is easy, genetics is easy, even neurology is easy to some extent (okay, not really, but he’s just really,  _ really _ bad at biochemistry).

 

(He hasn’t even taken neurology yet, but he’s heard Charles talk about it enough that he understands it better than his dad explained it to him. Apparently, Charles majored in neurobiology at Harvard. Hmph. Prick.)

 

The thing is, he has not been able to get into his study mindset. I mean, yeah, he’s aced all of his tests so far, but that was because he already knew the material. It’s because the nights after his mom died, he grabbed his dad’s medical books, plodded over to the kitchen, and dropped the textbooks on the kitchen table and demanded that his dad explain everything in there.

 

Thus far, he hasn’t had to study any differently than he had to at Boston University, and that unnerves him. He  _ knows _ med school is supposed to be significantly harder than undergrad. Even BJ has already changed his study habits – he doesn’t even listen to music anymore while studying. BJ. Not listening to music. It’s like the world is ending.

 

Even Trapper has ditched him for the medical school library, which Hawkeye would go to, but there are only 3 soundproof rooms in the library, and Trapper, Hot Lips/Ferret Face, and this other kid named Sidney use all of them.

 

Sidney Freedman is a nice guy. Hawkeye made friends with him at two in the morning the night before a major genetics test. (It was the one and only time that Hawkeye made it to the library during his Optimal Studying Time, and Sidney invited him into the soundproof room so they could quiz each other.)

 

He has stared at the same page of biochemistry notes for twenty minutes, and nothing new has entered his brain. He vaguely recalls something about how biochemistry affects hormone production, but he’s not sure where he learned it. Heaving a sigh, he slams his textbook shut, stuffs it in his bag, and leaves his dorm room.

 

He’s decided that he’s going to take a walk, but he was so engrossed in his textbook that he doesn’t really realize how late it is. He simply shakes his head at the inky black sky, stuffs his hands in his jeans pockets, and keeps walking.

 

The air is sticky and humid, causing his shirt to stick to his back. The city smells like rubber, gasoline, and something else that smells eerily similar to Larry’s corpse. Cars drive by on his left side, and the traffic is too much for him to listen to. His brain still feels like it’s swollen from all the stress of medical school, and he has not slept like a person since classes began. He’s beyond exhausted, and his limbs feel heavy with lead.

 

He’s seeking sanctuary from the noises by the time he (ironically) stumbles upon a church. He huffs out a laugh, reminds himself to tell his dad what just transpired, and tries the door. It’s unlocked, and he quietly steps over the threshold.

 

“Hello?” he calls out to the empty foyer. “Um, I know I’m like, not supposed to be here so late, but I just needed to get someplace quiet. If- if that’s alright.” He hangs his head and pushes a hand through his hair. “I’m talking to myself, what an idiot.”

 

A young man opens the doors that lead into the sanctuary. When he looks out into the foyer, he sees Hawkeye. “Oh!” he says, readjusting his glasses, “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

 

Hawkeye smiles and shakes his proffered hand. “I didn’t know priests came so young,” he says, nodding to the young man’s collar.

 

The priest reaches up and touches his collar. “Oh, yes. It is still unreal to me. I just recently finished seminary school, and this is my first church. I don’t know how many people will show up or even listen, but I do hope that someone comes. Are you Catholic?”

 

Hawkeye shakes his head and waves a hand. “Agnostic, actually. Grew up as a Methodist, but…” he continues to shake his head and shrugs.

 

The priest nods. “Oh, where are my manners? I’m John Francis Mulcahy.”

 

Hawkeye grins. “I’m Benjamin Pierce, but you can call me Hawkeye, Father.”

 

Father Mulcahy smiles brightly. “Hawkeye? Why Hawkeye?”

 

“My father’s favorite book was  _ The Last of the Mohicans _ and his favorite character of all time is Hawkeye from that same book.”

 

Father Mulcahy nods along. “Well, I’m glad you came in, Hawkeye. Is there anything I could help you with?”

 

Hawkeye purses his lips. “No, not really. I’m just really stressed out, and the noise outside stressed me out even more, so I just wanted to get out of it.”

 

Father Mulcahy adjusts his glasses again. They’re dirty and round, much like Hawkeye imagined Harry Potter’s glasses to be. “Are you a doctor, Hawkeye?”

 

Hawkeye squints. “Studying to be. Why do you ask?”

 

Father Mulcahy nods to Hawkeye’s hands. “Your hands. During seminary school, I worked with the nurses at the hospital, and I got to recognize doctors’ hands. You have hands of healing. Surgeon’s hands.”

 

Hawkeye looks down at his hands, turning them over, watching his hands tremble slightly as the adrenaline from the sensory overload wears off, studying the way they naturally form into the surgeon’s position. “Hands of healing?”

 

Father Mulcahy leans against the wall. “Oh, yes. In 1 Corinthians, chapter 12, Paul mentions that each person has different gifts, and he specifically mentioned gifts of healing as one. I always took that to mean the people God called to be doctors or nurses.”

 

Hawkeye continues to stare at his hands. “Can I tell you something, Father?”

 

“Of course, my son.”

 

It’s almost comical to Hawkeye that the priest referred to him as “son,” because Father Mulcahy can’t be more than two years older than him, but his mind isn’t on that at the moment. “My mother died when I was ten. She had a heart attack. My dad – he’s a doctor, too –, he tried to save her, but she wouldn’t let him help her. My sister died from leukemia when I was nine.” He finally looks up from his hands and stares into Father Mulcahy’s eyes. “I wanted to become a doctor because I couldn’t save them, but…what if I can’t save anyone? What if I’m just an imposter who’s just gonna end up playing at God?”

 

Father Mulcahy smiles softly. “My son, you have no idea the power you possess. I know you said you don’t believe in God, but in the few moments I’ve spoken with you, I know, with absolute certainty, that God is setting you up for amazing things.”

 

Hawkeye nods slowly. “Thank you, Father. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to get back to studying. I have a test coming up soon.”

 

Father Mulcahy shakes his hand. “Godspeed, my son.”

 

Before Hawkeye leaves the church, he looks around the foyer. In the dark, when it’s quiet, and only the priest is here…there’s just something about it. He pushes the door open, and he’s back in Baltimore.

 

The sounds don’t bother him as much anymore, and the shirt un-sticks from his back.

 

*

 

After their last professor dismisses class, Hawkeye grabs Charles’ and BJ’s arms. “Come on, guys, we’re going to have fun. We haven’t done anything that a normal person would do. Trap, you’re coming. Margaret, you too.”

 

She crosses her arms and glares at him. “Is Frank invited?”

 

Hawkeye shrugs. “I don’t know. Ask him if his wife will let him go out tonight.”

 

Margaret huffs, stomps her foot, and leaves in a flurry, knocking into Hawkeye so forcefully that he stumbles and almost pulls Charles down with him.

 

Charles laughs. “Pierce, you know I don’t like you, but if you keep making jokes like that, I may just have to be your friend, and neither of us want that.”

 

“I’ll stop making jokes about Frank when Ferret Face proves that he’ll be a competent doctor.”

 

Charles snorts and seems embarrassed by his laughter. “Eh…well, I will say that you are an ally, Pierce, but not a friend. I do not have friends.”

 

“Oh, we know, Chuckles. Come on, come on. Trap, you go get Sidney. He’ll have a blast.”

 

Trapper grins that smile that weakens Hawkeye’s knees. “Aye-aye, Captain.”

 

Charles reluctantly follows Hawkeye out the door (not that he has much choice; Hawkeye let go of BJ’s arm as soon as they left class, but he’s still gripping Charles’ arm). “Where, pray tell, are we going? One of your dives?”

 

Hawkeye shakes his head. “Charles, I am affronted. I have not been to a bar since the night before classes began. Just ask Beej.”

 

BJ nods quickly. “Can confirm, I saw him cry at three this morning because he couldn’t make an Irish coffee since, y’know, we don’t have any whiskey in the dorm.”

 

“I did  _ not _ cry.”

 

BJ presses his lips together. “I  _ very _ specifically remember you sobbing. Quite specifically. You said, quote, ‘My life is a sad movie and I just want to drink my troubles away and get enough energy to get to my bed, but we don’t  _ have _ anything to make Irish coffee,’ and then you started hitting your head on the table and crying because I said you weren’t allowed to drink until midterms were over.”

 

Hawkeye scoffs. “I did  _ not.” _

 

“You totally did, dude. I sent a video of you to Peg. She laughed.”

 

“Isn’t it illegal to video someone without their permission, anyway?”

 

BJ grins. “Nope! You gave up the right to cry in private when you signed up to be my roomie.”

 

Hawkeye sneers. “Okay, well, Chuckie, we  _ are _ gonna go to a bar, but I will be nice, and I will let Sidney choose where we go.”

 

Sidney chuckles. “Have you boys ever been to W.C. Harlan?”

 

BJ, Trapper, and Hawkeye all shake their heads.

“Nope.”

 

“Never.”

 

“There’s a first time for everything.”

 

Charles sneers. “Certainly not.”

 

Hawkeye claps his hands together. “Great! We’re going. Trap, would you be so kind as to let your fellow Bostonian ride with you?”

 

Trapper rubs his hands together gleefully. “My pleasure, Hawkeye.”

 

Hawkeye lightly smacks BJ’s arm. “I’m riding with you, pal.”

 

BJ rolls his eyes fondly. “Alright, come on. Sidney, you lead.”

 

Sidney salutes them. “Aye-aye, Captain.”

 

*

 

Potter has more or less  _ ordered _ everyone to study for midterms with their respective lab partners, which means that the five of them have all gathered in Charles’ and Trapper’s respective dorm (Charles apparently was absolutely  _ affronted _ that he had to share a dorm with Trapper, but they didn’t have the good fortune of knowing anyone going into medical school, so it was all luck of the draw). Hawkeye hangs upside down from Trapper’s bed, where six textbooks, seven notebooks, piles of notes, dozens of sticky notes, and sixteen pens are scattered. Margaret glares at him.

 

“Pierce, will you be serious?”

 

“I am serious, Margaret,” he says, and his voice sounds nasally. “If they don’t find the cure to cancer by the time Frank manages to graduate med school, I’m gonna quit whatever I’m doing to go into medical research so I can find the stupid cure.”

 

“It’s not that simple.”

 

“It may not be, but a lot of people lose family members to cancer. It sucks.”

 

“Well, that’s just part of life sometimes.”

 

Hawkeye rolls over onto his stomach and glares at her. “Are you fucking serious? Have  _ you _ ever lost someone to cancer? Do you know how much that hurts? To know that there wasn’t a cure in the first place, that there wasn’t anyone who could offer some healing?”

 

Frank jiggles his knee. “Well, there’s always Jesus.”

 

Hawkeye smiles bitterly. “That’s nice, Frank. Don’t you think they try that? And besides,  _ if _ the Christians are right, then that means God intends for some people to die from cancer.”

 

“Hey, he’s the Son of God.”

 

“And he also said not to commit adultery and that even  _ lust _ was unfaithful, and yet, here you and Hot Lips are.”

 

Margaret’s eyes flash, and Frank’s nostrils flare. “How  _ dare _ you!” Margaret shouts.

 

“Oh,  _ fuck _ you, Margaret!”

 

Trapper and Charles walk back into their room, both of them balancing a bowl of mac-’n-cheese in their hands. “Hey, hey, what’s all the fuss about here?” Trapper asks.

 

Margaret points accusingly at Hawkeye. “That one said that Frank and I were –”

 

“Oh, honey, we all know about it. No need to lie. My only question is why would you deal with  _ that,” _ Trapper nods to Frank, passing Hawkeye and Margaret one of the bowls and keeping the last for himself, “instead of  _ this?” _ He gestures to himself.

 

“Maybe because I want a man with taste.”

 

“Then Charles. I don’t care. Just don’t get it on with a married guy.”

 

Margaret’s nostrils flare. “How  _ dare _ you –”

 

Charles, somehow, is the peacemaker between them all. He holds up a hand before Margaret can accuse McIntyre of something-or-other and before she ends up slapping Hawkeye. “Please, gentlemen. And lady,” he adds, “Let us not get into a boorish brawl at the moment. Margaret, when you leave this room, you may very well slap Pierce for all I care.”

 

“Thanks, Charles.”

 

“But let us not do that now. Dr. Potter told us to study with our lab table, and that is what we are doing. I think it is only fair that we listen to him, right? Is he not wiser than us?”

 

Margaret leans back against the bed. “Okay, fine, I’ll play nice.”

 

Trapper nods sulkily. “Sure, but I’m doing this under protest.”

 

“Frank?”

 

Frank’s beady eyes travel from Charles to Trapper to Hawkeye. He finally looks to Margaret and at her glare, he finally acquiesces. “Alright. But just know I don’t really want to.”

 

Charles nods once. “Noted. Pierce?”

 

“Seems I don’t have any other choice.” He waves a hand and shovels a forkful of mac-’n-cheese into his mouth. “Ask away, Chuckles.”

 

Charles rolls his eyes. “Pierce: An inhibitor of of the Na + , K + -ATPase of the intestinal epithelial cell would be expected to block which two of the following events: A) facilitated sugar transport across the brush border membrane; B) facilitated sugar transport across the serosal membrane; C) active sugar transport across the brush border membrane; D) active sugar transport across the serosal membrane; E) the generation of a sodium gradient, interior positive, across the brush border membrane; and F) the generation of a sodium gradient, interior negative, across the brush border membrane?”

 

Hawkeye huffs. Medical school is hell.

 

*

 

Midterms are the absolute worst. He’s hated them since college, and even now, he’s…well, he’s struggling just a mite.

 

Each midterm lasts exactly four hours, and only part of the test is multiple choice, and the multiple choice questions list fifteen different options. The majority of each exam is essay and short answer. He hates essay and short answer.

 

Obviously, the length of each midterm is awful, and so is the time allotment, but what gets him the most is how  _ quiet _ he has to be. It used to be that he could mess with his pencil or draw on the test or his work so that he could perseverate, or he could tap out the rhythm to whichever song BJ had made him listen to, but this…

 

Margaret sits to his left, and she kicked him underneath the desk the first time he distracted her, and Sidney gives him a certain look every time he messes with his pencil. Henry Blake even told him to stop screwing around.

 

_ It’s not even my fault that I can’t concentrate, _ he thinks as he processes the question on his anatomy midterm. Doc Potter has been more lenient and told Hawkeye that he’s allowed to draw  _ only _ as long as it has something to do with the actual human body.

 

Finally, after nearly a week of tests, he takes his final midterm and walks out of class, stretching and turning his face to the sun.

 

Margaret shrugs on her jacket, clearly waiting for Frank. “So, what are you going to do first? Hit up the bars?”

 

Hawkeye purses his lips and rolls out his shoulders. “Nah, I think I might just go to Chickfila and get three sandwiches and three large fries. And after that, I’m gonna go back to the dorm and I’m going to binge watch PSYCH.” He pulls his right arm across his body. “What about you?”

 

“I’d be lying if I said I was going to study. I’ll probably go to a bar and drink enough tequila to make me want to fight a racoon.”

 

Hawkeye smiles at the memory of their first meeting. Or the first part of it, anyway. Before he insulted her. “No Ferret Face for you?”

 

Margaret shakes her head. “No. He’ll go home to his wife, and they’ll do what married couples do. I know I’m just here to make his life more interesting. It sucks, but it’s true.”

 

Hawkeye rolls his eyes. “Margaret, you’re super smart. In study group, you were doing better than Trap, and that’s an accomplishment that few can claim. You shouldn’t just be some idiot’s mistress, especially if he doesn’t realize how amazing you are.”

 

Margaret tries to hide her smile by looking down at her feet. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “You think so, Hawkeye?”

 

He nods solemnly, still standing next to her. “You’re going to be absolutely magnificent, Margaret. You’ll be the best of us all.”

 

“I’m pretty sure you, BJ, Trapper, and Charles are at the top of the class.”

 

He shrugs. “Maybe. But Beej and I both come from a physician’s family, and my dad was the only doctor in my hometown. Charles is…well, he’s Charles, and Trap is a genius. Just because we’re all book-smart doesn’t mean we’ll be talented doctors. You will be.”

 

She nudges him with her shoulder. “How do you know?”

 

He nods to her hands. “You have hands of healing.”

 

She narrows her eyes at him. “Hands of healing? How…?”

 

He shrugs again. “A priest told me the same thing. Thought it just sounded cool. But, no, you have drive and you’re determined to do your best. I just hope you love what you do end up doing.”

 

Margaret’s mouth falls open. “What- what do you mean by that?”

 

This time, Hawkeye nudges her with his shoulder. “You shouldn’t go into something you hate. Cardiology is hard. It’s terrifying sometimes. Medicine is too difficult a career to hate it. You need to love it, and you need to love it almost as much as you’ll love your husband or your kids. It’s not worth the misery to do it to impress someone or to do it because someone else wanted it from you.”

 

Margaret starts fiddling with her watch. It’s not an Apple Watch; it’s simply a white digital watch. “How’d you figure it out?”

 

“When Potter asked what you wanted to do, you had to mentally brace yourself for what was going to come out of your mouth. That’s a dead giveaway, and I wouldn’t be too surprised if he figured it out, too.” He gestures with his head. “Hey, you wanna come with me to Chickfila?”

 

She nods, tucks her hands into her jacket pockets, and follows him. “I guess you’re right. I mean…my dad is in the Army, and he always wanted me to be a part of the military. I applied to Army Medical School, and I got in, but I was able to convince my dad to let me come here because of its reputation, so long as I did residency with the Army, I could come here.” She shrugs and scratches her nose with her left hand. “Thing is, I love OBGYN and there’s no demand for an OBGYN in the Army.”

 

Hawkeye nods in understanding. “That’s…I’m not gonna lie, that’s rough. You’ll figure it out in due time, though.”

 

Margaret tries to huff out a laugh. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’ll figure it out eventually.” They walk in silence for a while. “Are you not going to hang out with BJ?”

 

Hawkeye glances at her and then points to a red Honda. “That’s my car right there. And, no, Beej is going on a date with Peg, and I’ve kept him to myself for the better part of two months, so it’s only fair that she gets to deal with him for a night or so.”

 

Margaret nudges Hawkeye with her shoulder and grins brightly at him. “You need a binge watching buddy?”

 

He places one hand over his heart and bows. “It would be an honor, m’lady.”

 

Her laughter rings out through the parking lot, and he doesn’t know how to diagnose the warmth in his chest. As he holds open the passenger door for her to get in, he decides to just call it “friendship.” Nothing more complicated than that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also I could go oFF on the "hands of healing" thing so someone please just ask me about that. Or anything in the chapter. Or Hawklips. Anything, really, as long as it's a comment…
> 
> DOWN BELOW

**Author's Note:**

> Like it, love it, hate it? Leave a comment below or go to my tumblr @ my-glasses-are-dirty and tell me what you think!


End file.
